


true feeling chocolate

by rory_the_dragon



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Chocolate, Established Relationship, Freddie and Brian being Low-Key Weebs, M/M, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 13:24:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17788211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rory_the_dragon/pseuds/rory_the_dragon
Summary: Honmei choco (本命チョコ, "true feeling chocolate") is chocolate given on Valentine's Day to those whom the giver has romantic feelings for.(Brian and Freddie celebrate Valentine's Day)





	true feeling chocolate

Brian wakes up to the sound of swearing and the smell of burning.

He’s used to hearing Freddie cuss his way around the hotel bedroom in the mornings, searching for mislaid belts and shirts in the half-light, trying not to wake Brian by not turning on the lights but waking him all the same by never thinking to lower his voice, but the burning _is_ a concern and gets Brian out of bed _very_ quickly.

He finds Freddie, worryingly, in the suite’s kitchen.

The room is unrecognisable. Bowls that Brian didn’t know the hotel stocked are scattered across every surface, all of them used with some substance or other, the sink is full of abandoned saucepans, and there’s a sauce of some kind up one of the walls. And in the centre of it all, is Freddie, wearing a _Kiss The Cook_ apron and staring balefully into a saucepan as if it’s personally insulted his singing technique.

There’s what looks to be _flour_ in his hair.

“Uh,” Brian tries, because he’s still half-asleep and isn’t entirely sure he hasn’t hallucinated this whole, very strange, situation. He doesn’t ever remember seeing Freddie in a kitchen, unless it was to fetch a bottle-opener. “Freddie?”

At the sound of his voice, Freddie’s head jerks up, eyes wide. There’s a smear on the arch of his cheekbone, as if Freddie has pushed his hair from his eyes and not noticed the residue left behind. Brian’s thumb itches to wipe it away, tilt Freddie’s face up to him, kiss him good morning.

Then Freddie scowls. “ _You’re not supposed to be in here!_ ”

Brian blinks at the hiss that comes from Freddie, complete with brandished wooden spoon. Reactions such as this are usually reserved for the studio or particularly fraught antiques auctions, not mornings that could have been lazily spent in bed, as Brian was rather expecting. There’s something manic in Freddie’s eyes that would scare off lesser men. Brian wanders closer.

He has to step over several spoons, clearly victims of vicious chuckings at nearby walls, and a puddle of, he thinks, milk, to get there, ignoring Freddie’s “ _No_ , Brian, go back to bed you’re _ruining it!_ ” as he does so. By the time he gets there, Freddie’s scowl as become something closer to a pout, his arms wrapped tightly around himself as he glares into the pan once again.

Brian wraps an arm around him, presses a greeting kiss to his cheek, and looks down himself.

“What on earth-“ is all he manages to get out before Freddie’s huffing, throwing his spoon into the pot of congealed brown, slightly charred, goo.

“I was trying to do something _nice!_ ”

“So you _cooked_?”

“ _Well, fuck you very much_.”

“Oh, come here!” Brian has to hold onto Freddie tight to stop him squirming angrily away, presses a placating kiss to his powdery hair, then another, and another, until he settles again, still holding himself stiffly but allowing Brian to rub a peaceful hand up and down his arm.

Freddie gives up so easily to Brian’s touch, has since the very beginning, blossoms into something soft and willing every time, which is why Brian’s plans for the morning had involved stretching Freddie out in the hotel sheets and setting his mouth to every inch of Freddie that doesn’t get the right amount of attention when they fuck desperate and fast in the comedown of a great gig. Brian has thought that would be a great way to start the day, the afternoon, however long it took, and instead leaves him to wonder why he’s standing here with his cold feet on the cold floor surrounded by mess and a distinctly unhappy Freddie.

“It was supposed to be chocolate.” Freddie sulks. Brian makes sure to bite down his grin at the petulant tone in his voice, the stiffness of the other man beneath his arm, and tries to force his face into something serious. Then Freddie, voice suddenly edged with vulnerability and a small flush rising on his cheeks says, “It was supposed to be _Honmei-choco_ ,” and Brian understands.

They’d come across the concept in Japan, been so inundated with the chocolates from fans that they’d ended up passing them around the crew and still had too many left over to try and smuggle back home. As with all things in Japan, Freddie had been delighted with the small boxes and bags tied with ribbons and hearts, and while Brian had been far too distracted with the, then new, feeling of being ecstatically in love with Freddie Mercury, he remembers the small chocolates Freddie has pressed into his mouth, followed with sweet kisses.

For Brian, Japan will always be tender first times, stolen kisses beneath cherry blossom trees, and the lingering taste of tea and chocolate.

He can’t help the smile breaking out across his face, no longer laughing, but gentle and overwhelming all at once. Freddie still pouting, Brian tucks a finger under his chin until Freddie can’t look anywhere but at him, only him, and then he kisses him. Any tension left in Freddie’s body ebbs away on the breath that ghosts across Brian’s lips, and he sinks against Brian the same as he did the first time and all the times after.

“Thank you,” Brian says, kisses it into Freddie’s cheek, the bridge of his nose, the flutter of his eyelashes. Every day he knows deep in his bones how much he loves this man, but sometimes it rises like waves, crashes in his chest. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

There’s a smile playing on Freddie’s lips, even if he’s trying to hide it, still trying to pout a little. “Not much of a Valentine’s present.”

Planting a final kiss on Freddie’s mouth, Brian extricates himself. “Go take a shower,” he says, at last rubbing his thumb over the smear on Freddie’s cheek, and Freddie seems to finally notice the mess he’s made of himself and the room. Brian sucks the chocolate off his thumb, and has to fight to keep his face straight at the bitterness that shoots across his tongue. “I’ll sort this and we’ll start again.”

Torn, Freddie hesitates. “But I’m meant to make it for _you_ ,” he says, an edge of whine creeping back into his voice, and Brian laughs.

“Fred, we’re not women, neither of us are _really_ meant to make Honmei-choco.” Freddie huffs again, clearly about to argue, and Brian cuts him off, pulls Freddie back in by the strings of his apron. Kisses the argument from him, then makes it for him, makes it better. “You make Honmei-choco for your boyfriend so we both count. _Go_.”

Freddie holds his face up for one more kiss, then goes.

Brian calls housekeeping. While he’s waiting, he stacks up the bowls and pans and places them on the room service trolley that’s been cast aside with extreme prejudice once unloaded of its goods. He salvages the cocoa powder, the sugar and the flour, then rings room service for more butter and milk, both of which are beyond saving. Half-hidden by a whisk, Brian finds a napkin covered in chocolate fingerprints and frantic notes in Freddie’s hand. Brian rescues that from the mess with a soft smile, wonders at which of their staff Freddie got to give him a basic recipe for chocolate and pictures the way Freddie would have looked, seriously and diligently writing it down for later, for Brian.

When housekeeping, with room service hot on their heels, turns up, he heads through to the bedroom to throw on a shirt, wary of Freddie cooking and bare skin, and on his way back picks up the radio in the sitting room.

Kitchen clean and waiting, Brian sets about twiddling with the radio. He finds a channel playing english music, all love songs in honour of the day, which is fine by Brian as he sways about the room, humming along to _Love Me Do_ as he looks for one of the clean bowls now hidden away in one of the bottom-most cupboards.

The note he’s been keeping a light hold on jolts out of him in surprise as Freddie, approach quite hidden by the music, pinches at his arse by way of hello. He’s clean again, hair curling a little from the damp, and Brian forgives him the pinch instantly when it makes mischief twinkle in his dark eyes.

“Come on.” He holds up the napkin between two long fingers, holds it out of Freddie’s reach when he moves for it. “I’ve got us a table booked at seven tonight. Reckon ten hours is enough to make a batch of chocolate?”

“Barely, darling.”

They are neither of them chefs. Two boys who lived in near poverty in a London flat, then on the road surrounded by staff, never really had to learn their ways about a kitchen, but between them they manage something approximating success. Quickly into the process, Freddie demotes himself to assistant, which really means that he hitches himself up onto the counter and gives Brian instructions from his napkin cheat sheet, offering various criticisms on the consistency and colour of the contents of Brian’s saucepan.

Getting bored midway through, Freddie starts dancing around the kitchen, wrapping his arms around Brian’s middle and trying to coax his hips into a rhythm, and Brian figures he can leave the saucepan to simmer for a couple of minutes to indulge Freddie some more. Once the saucepan starts spitting excitedly, Freddie’s interest catches again and he hurries over to inspect their work.

Feeling slightly bad now about the amount of mess he asked room service to clear earlier, Brian sets about tidying the - admittedly smaller - mess they’ve created this time. Freddie sets himself back on the counter and starts licking the mixing bowl, keeping a loose eye on the bubbling concoction in the pan.

“Anywhere in the world?” He asks, after offering Brian a taste from an almost licked-clean spatula. Brian, wrist-deep in soapy water, is helpless to stop Freddie from smearing the implement on his cheek instead, and Freddie then lapping the chocolate off his face isn’t quite a substitute for clean skin so he gets his revenge by tugging wet hands into Freddie’s hair and pulling him into a kiss. They both taste like chocolate from various samplings and Brian thinks idly that if he keeps kissing Freddie like this no chocolate they’ve made is going to ever compare.

“Japan, I think,” Freddie finishes softly against his mouth when Brian’s released him, and Brian hums thoughtfully.

It’s a game they play on tour. They’ve been practically everywhere in the world, seen so much and so little all at once, that sometimes it’s easy to get lost in it. Freddie accidentally started the game when in a bad bout of homesickness, waxing poetic about the streets of London and the smell of the rain. Trying to distract him, Brian had said that, actually, he’d prefer to be in Norway, visiting a fjord or some such nonsense, and the game had begun.

'Anywhere in the world?' one of them asks, and the other offers the best fantasy he can.

“Nah,” Brian says, even thinking of the pink blossoms, of Freddie in the bustling Harajuku streets, of the way Japan always turns them back to twenty five and free all over again. “Right here, I think.”

Just here. Freddie in a shirt that definitely belongs to Brian because he didn’t want chocolate getting on his own clothes, legs kicking, with chocolate at his lips and looking at Brian like he could love him forever. He wipes off his hands as Freddie splutters about him cheating at their game, then settles himself in between Freddie’s legs to kiss him again and again and again, because it’s Valentine’s Day and because Freddie made him terrible, terrible chocolate, and just because they love each other. Right here.

 

**Author's Note:**

> A tiny!fic written because I woke up this morning and realised I'd forgotten all about Valentine's Day!
> 
> Find me at queerbrianmay on tumblr!


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